Ducky, Diary Two Point Five
by easytodancewith
Summary: Ducky McCrae/OC. Ducky's POV, set during "Dawn, Diary Three" and based on this line: "After awhile, I couldn't keep up with him, so when this girl and this guy sort of started dancing with him, I signaled that I was going to head back to our table..."


**A/N:** Set during "Dawn, Diary Three" but told from Ducky's perspective. All the interaction with Dawn is taken from "Dawn, Diary Three" as is the description of the club, etc. This whole thing was inspired by one line from Dawn's entry about the concert: _"After awhile, I couldn't keep up with him, so when this girl and this guy sort of started dancing with him, I signaled that I was going to head back to our table."_

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**A Midnight Confession**

You have a secret.

It's not a huge secret, but you haven't written about it before now and you're not sure why. After all, none of the teachers at Vista actually READ these journals. They were an assignment without a due date. (You wish every assignment came without a due date.) So why are you going to all this trouble to "edit" your life? Who are you trying to hide from?

Yourself?

**In Which You Go Into More Detail****  
(in Math Class)**

There's this band.

Just WRITING about it makes you cringe, because obsessing over music is NOT one of your top ten things to do, or even top fifty, and you think people who do that are kind of creepy – almost as bad as the Cro Mags with their Los Angeles Whatevers. The only team YOU'VE heard of is the Anaheim Ducks, and that's only because Ted bought you a T-shirt with their logo on it for your birthday last year and thought he was being hilarious.

You should say that you don't mind it when Amalia or Maggie obsesses, because they're IN a band so they have to keep up with this stuff, and they have a right to be really passionate about it. You're talking about those girls who have a gazillion pictures of WHOEVER in their locker, and think they have a deep, mystical connection to the band's lead singer, and spend all their time either thinking about the band/singer or telling everyone else that they're the biggest fan in the world and nobody else comes close.

Not talking to anybody in homeroom leaves you with a lot of time to listen.

And now, McCrae, it's time to let slip your dirty secret.

You have a slight (SLIGHT) musical crush on Pierre X from Jax. You're not attracted to him or anything, you just like his songs. And the way he sings them. Particularly the way he closes his eyes when he sings them. And

Patterson on the warpath. Gotta jet.

**5:04**

You just got home from school. Well, you gave Sunny a ride, sat on her porch for a while talking, THEN drove home. Ted is out. The house is quiet. You make a brief, half-hearted attempt at cleaning and then decide that writing about Jax would be much more interesting.

The reason you brought them up in the first place is because you got a Jax e-mail alert yesterday about them playing at a club IN NORTH PALO on March 5th. You HAVE to go. HAVE TO.

The tickets go on sale Monday, and numbered bracelets will be given out on Saturday at 10 o'clock, but of course people will be lining up before that. WAY before that. Way before it's even LIGHT outside.

Sometimes it is truly awesome that your parents are in Ghana.

**Lurking by your Locker**

You were grabbing your chem folder when you overheard the girl with the locker three doors down from you talking about Pierre. His long, lustrous hair. His piercing eyes. His amazing outfits. His Belgian accent. His HIP BONES.

Actually, she didn't mention the hip bones. That would be you, ad-libbing.

Hm.

**In Which You Return****  
from an Unplanned Writing Hiatus**

You haven't written for a few days. No reason, you just didn't feel like it.

Okay, you just dropped your journal, and when you picked it up and started flipping through it, you came to the previous page. You think it's a sign. Why are you lying in your own journal? Who ARE you trying to hide from?

Truthfully, the last entry kind of freaked you out, so you needed a break from writing. It was like you wrote that thing about Pierre's hips without even thinking about it, and you only realized when you read it over. You'd never even thought about his hips before then. He wears these short shirts a lot to show them off, and he's very thin and elegant, so… you were probably thinking about his hips because your body got confused and thought he was a girl or something. Not that you really think that way about girls, but it's about time you started, so maybe it's actually a GOOD thing.

This is making your head hurt.

Not much else to report. Went to the mall yesterday (Wednesday) with Sunny. She wanted a new navel ring, and even though you don't have a lot of money, you LOVE to window shop, so you said you'd go. It turns out she likes Jax too! She can't come on Saturday because she has a date with a Cro Mag that afternoon so she needs her beauty sleep (her reaction when you told her what time you wanted to be there was sort of funny but mostly scary) but you said you'd buy her a ticket on Monday if you get a bracelet with a good number, and she can pay you back later.

You really hope you do get a good number, so you and Sunny can swoon over Pierre together.

**Editorial Correction**

So you and Sunny can swoon over Pierre's AMAZING SINGING TALENTS together.

**In the Throes of Anticipation  
Late Friday Evening**

You are packing provisions for tomorrow. Extra layers. Snacks. Your Walkman with a Jax CD in it. You need to set your alarm clock for 4:30 a.m., but you're so hyped up right now that you're not sure you'll even get to sleep before then.

**In Line  
Written by Torchlight**

The sun is JUST beginning to come up.

You've been here about half an hour, and let's just say you're glad you brought an extra hoody. You grabbed your bright purple one because you figured Cro Mags wouldn't want to stand (sit) in line for Jax tickets and they're the only ones who've ever bothered you about it. The girls seem to like it. Sunny told you it was "bitchin'."

The guy immediately ahead of you in line said he liked it too. You don't really know what to think of him – he seemed civil enough when he talked to you but now he keeps STARING, and the weirdest part is that every time you catch him, he doesn't turn away like he's embarrassed to be caught looking. Instead he just smiles.

You just looked up and caught him again. He really

**STILL In Line  
Light Outside  
But Three More Hours Until Bracelets**

So, the guy talked to you again.

He's actually kind of nice. You think maybe he was staring at you because he wanted to start a conversation but he wasn't brave enough. You do that sometimes. You're not sure though, because he doesn't seem like the shy type. He's very ON, and very touchy-feely. He's touched your arm three times already, and once he even grabbed the drawstring on your hoody and twirled it around his fingers. You weren't expecting him to tug on it that hard so you fell forward straight into his lap, but he didn't seem to mind, just laughed, helped you up and then played with the drawstring some more.

His name is Cal. You tell him yours and his eyes light up.

"Ducky like in 'Pretty in Pink'?"

Now YOUR eyes light up. "Yeah! I watched it with my family when I was little, and they thought I was a young Ducky. It just stuck."

C: "So are you really like him? A dorky guy who's unlucky in love?"  
D, with a shrug: "Not really. I mean, I'm not COOL, but I'm not that dorky. I guess you could say I'm retro. I like thrift stores and bright colors."  
C, pointing to your hoody: "I could tell. So what about your love life? Are you, like Ducky, desperately, heartrendingly, unrequitedly in love with your best friend?"

You're not sure what to say to that for the simple reason that you're not sure you actually have a best friend anymore. Alex is at the recovery center in Chicago, and it doesn't sound like he's coming back anytime soon. You get updates about him from Mrs. Snyder. That's not really even a friendship, let alone a BEST friendship.

C: "Did I hit a nerve?"  
D: "Nah, I just… don't have a best friend. I have a group of friends."  
C: "Oh yeah? Anyone interesting?"

He raises his eyebrows to make sure you catch his meaning. You notice that they're very dark, just like the hair on his arms. You start to wonder if he's Greek or Italian or something, but force yourself to focus on the question. You picture yourself pining over Sunny or Amalia or Dawn and can't help but burst out laughing.

Cal shoots you a smile. "Guess that's a no in the interesting friend department. So does that mean you're LUCKY in love?"

You frown. "I'm not really anything."

It looks like his eyes sparkle when you tell him that, but you're not sure and you don't have any time to think about it because the next words out of his mouth are, "Aw, no boyfriend?"

You stare at him, shocked. Skinny-fit Jax T-shirt, tight black jeans, Converse All Stars. He doesn't LOOK like a Cro Mag. And why would he say he liked your hoody if he was only going to tease you about it later? You really thought he was sincere.

"No," you say shortly, and turn away.

You realize the awful thing about waiting in line is that there's no way to escape from the people waiting on either side of you. When Cal touches your arm, you have to turn around because you know he won't stop doing it otherwise, and it's not as if you can just get up and leave. Pierre is worth more than that.

Surprisingly, Cal looks hurt and a little confused. "Was it something I said?"

You realize with a jolt that he WASN'T insulting you. He actually thought you were…

"NO!" you blurt out. "Sorry! I. I thought you were making fun of me. At school, people… sometimes…"

You're not making a lot of sense, but he's nodding along like he agrees with you.

"Same story when I was in school. Just wait 'til you get to college. It's way more chill."

It's weird that he's in college. He looks so much younger than Ted and his friends. Maybe he's a freshman.

"People don't bully you as much?"

You regret the terminology as soon as it's out of your mouth because it's such a MIDDLE SCHOOL THING TO SAY, although it really IS what the Cro Mags do.

Cal shakes his head. "Nope. You mix with the people you like, and you don't mix with the people you don't like. Differences aren't such a big deal in college. At least not at mine." He winks at you. "There are a lot more hot guys, too."

The words catch in your throat like you're the one who said them. It's at that point you truly look at Cal for the first time. Sizing him up. Figuring him out. Guys in Palo City don't WEAR skinny jeans unless they're…

Nah. He can't be.

You've never met a gay person in real life. You always expected to be able to tell the SECOND you saw someone, or at least the second you heard that someone speak. Cal is NOTHING LIKE the gay men on TV. To start with, his voice is a lot deeper than Jack McFarland's.

You decide to change the subject.

"So, what's your major?"

Cal grins. "Fashion design and biochemistry. I make a lot of shirts with molecules on them."

You blink at him, and he bursts into the most infectious laugh you've ever heard. You can't help but chuckle right along with him.

"I don't really. I am a double major, though."

You haven't even thought about what you want to major in. Cal makes you feel very young all of a sudden. You're trying to come up with something intelligent to say next when Cal shivers, then starts rooting around in his bag. He pulls out a sweatshirt with the name "CAL TECH" on it in big white letters.

"My sister goes there," he explains, seeing you looking. "She got it for me as a joke. Says I should change my last name."

You can't believe it. You tell him all about the Anaheim Ducks shirt, and before you know it you're both cracking up again. You feel like you've known him for much longer than a few hours.

The two of you keep talking until Cal yawns, looks at his watch and tells you that he's going to try to take a nap. Most of the people in the line in front of you are dozing, or have been at some point during the wait, so you say okay and offer to watch his stuff. He calls you a "star" and then lies down on the sidewalk, using his backpack as a pillow.

You open your journal and start to write.

**Half Past Eleven  
Quarter to Naptime**

The number on your bracelet is 261. The OTHER number on your bracelet is 555-6464.

That's right: Cal wrote it down and told you to "give me a call sometime."

You're not sure what this means, and you REALLY need to sleep.

**6:13!**

You slept this whole time. Ted, of course, didn't think to wake you, so now you're going to be up ALL. NIGHT.

You ended up dreaming about Cal.

Weird.

**9:22**

You should call him.

**9:25**

Are you CRAZY? What if "Give me a call sometime" is code for "Let's go on a date"?

**11:14**

You don't even know that he's gay. What he said about the guys at his college could just have been him trying to reassure you that you'd find someone, because he thinks YOU'RE gay.

**2:55**

Why didn't you tell him you WEREN'T?

**Even Later Saturday Night  
Or:  
Early Sunday Morning**

You're not going to call him. He'll get over it.

**11:58  
(At Night)**

You slept all day again. Yelled at Ted, who said he poked you and you didn't wake up so he decided to leave you alone. The worst thing about this is that it's Presidents' Day tomorrow, so there'll be no school to get you back on track.

You told Ted that if he sees you sleeping at any time other than during the hours of darkness, he should attack you with a water gun until you wake up.

**1:31****  
(A.M. Because Ted Sucks)**

Just realized that tomorrow (today) is when the tickets go on sale.

Cal will be there. And now it's too late to call him.

**MONDAY NIGHT JUBILATION**

YOU HAVE FOUR JAX TICKETS

YOU HAVE FOUR JAX TICKETS

I CAN'T BELIEVE IT

I HAVE FOUR JAX TICKETS

**Later  
AKA****  
After You've Stopped Bouncing Around the House****  
Singing Jax Songs to Ted**

Cal has Jax tickets too.

Well.

One ticket. We were allowed to get up to four, but he only asked for one.

You suppose HE doesn't have a boyfriend either.

Take it from the beginning, Ducky.

You get to the club early, but there are already a ton of people there. You're trying to avoid Cal, and you succeed until the people at the venue say everyone has to get in line in numerical order before the starting number is announced, so you end up right behind him again. He is wearing this flowing green dress shirt over a tight black T and another pair of black skinny jeans.

"Hi," you say carefully, and he looks surprised that you are even talking to him.

C: "Hi."  
D, after a short silence: "So."  
C: "Yeah."  
D: "Hope we get tickets."  
C: "Uh-huh."  
D: "Jax are so cool."  
C: "Yup."  
D: "What's your favorite Jax song?"  
C: "You never called."

You think he's talking about a SONG at first, and you're wracking your brain to come up with the tune until you see the hurt in his eyes and realize it's not a song title at all.

"I. I'm sorry."

Cal shrugs. "You could have told me, you know? I mean, you acted like you were interested, so I gave you my number. That was the time to tell me you weren't."

It's at that point you figure out that he really is gay, and he thinks you are too, and he wants to GO OUT WITH YOU and you just BLEW HIM OFF.

"It's not that I'm not… that I don't like you, it's just…"

You can't seem to finish the sentence.

"What?" he asks finally.

He looks SO UPSET. You never meant to hurt his feelings like this.

"I lost your number," you tell him, then see his eyes travel down to the bracelet and kick yourself for not coming up with a better excuse. "Cal, listen –"

"Forget about it," he cuts you off. "I get it. You're just not that into me."

You and Cal stand in silence until the starting number is called, at which point you grab your tickets and get out of there. You don't even start getting excited about the concert until you're halfway home.

**Homeroom, Homeroom on the Range**

You couldn't get to sleep last night, and you can't tell whether it's more to do with your sleeping patterns over the weekend or the issue with Cal.

You suspect it was the latter.

Honestly, you never thought you'd be GLAD to be back at school, but you're so grateful to have something else to focus on.

You really screwed up this time, McCrae.

**English Class  
Avoiding Turner's Beady Eyes****  
While Pretending to Take Notes**

You should have just gone on the date with him. He seemed like a nice guy.

**Lunch  
Avoiding the Cro Mags' Beady Eyes****  
While Pretending to do Overdue Math Homework**

Except you're not gay.

**Five Minutes Later**

So why did Cal think you WERE?

**Study Hall  
In Which You Finished the Math Homework****  
and Now Have Nothing to Do****  
Except Literally Study the Halls**

He probably saw your ridiculous purple hoody and judged you on the spot.

It's your own fault. If not for wearing the hoody, then for letting him assume something like that.

WHY DIDN'T YOU CORRECT HIM?

**Thursday Lunch**

For the past 24 hours, you have been wondering why you didn't just tell Cal you were straight. And you can't come up with a reason, which is weird because you ARE straight.

You suppose you are, anyway. Actually, you've never really thought about it before, but most people are. Why should you be any different?

You played with GI Joes as a kid. You never had Barbies. Never WANTED Barbies. You watched "Power Rangers" and went go-karting and played laser tag. You and Alex also listened to the "Guys and Dolls" soundtrack about a million times but THAT WAS HIS MOM'S FAULT FOR OWNING IT.

Why are you defending yourself so much?

**Chemistry  
Yeah, Chemistry!**

You just quoted "Guys and Dolls," but you couldn't help it. You're IN chemistry. It's perfect.

Anyway.

You're still trying to figure out why you got so offended by Cal thinking you were gay. People read signals wrongly all the time. No big deal. You know YOU'VE done it in the past. Besides, you're not the kind of guy to have a lot of prejudices, and you don't see anything wrong with being gay, you're just not sure that you ARE.

Why did you write that? "You're not sure." You're NOT not sure. You're STRAIGHT.

Aren't you?

Aren't I?

**8:47**

You just called Amalia, Dawn and Sunny and invited them to the concert. Dawn screamed so loudly that your right ear is still ringing.

You like girls. A lot of your closest friends are girls. You like talking to them. You like making them happy. You CAN'T be gay.

**Homeroom on the Range  
The Sequel**

You're not. You're glad you concluded this.

The only reason you keep thinking about Cal is because you hate hurting people and you hate letting them down. Maybe you're freaking out even more than usual because of what happened with Alex. You feel you let him down by not being a good enough friend to him, so now you're being extra sensitive about Cal's feelings. That's why. That's all.

You're overreacting, Ducky. He's probably forgotten about you by now. He's not going to try to kill himself just because you didn't call him and then lied about losing his number.  
Unless he's depressed like Alex.

**Français  
(Tu es très, très stupide)**

He is NOT depressed like Alex.

He initiated a conversation with you.

He joked with you.

He laughed with you.

He played with the drawstrings on your hoody.

…He flirted with you.

Wow. He must have really liked you.

**Sunday Afternoon  
No Cool Caption  
Because You Don't Feel Like It**

Dawn just called you.

D: Hey, it's me.  
D:

Okay, wait, that won't work.

DS: "Hey, it's me."  
DMcC: "Hi, Dawn."  
DS: "How are you?"  
DMcC, lying through his teeth because DS doesn't need to hear about his problems: "Good. Did you talk to your parents about the concert yet?"  
DS: "No. I decided to talk to you first. I'm pretty sure I can convince Dad and Carol to let me go. I just have to handle it carefully. But there's one other thing."  
DMcC: "Yes?"  
DS: "Yes. Sunny."  
DMcC: "What about Sunny?"  
DS: "Well, we're still not speaking, and… we haven't exactly spent much time together lately."  
DMcC: "So you think the concert might be uncomfortable for you?"  
DS: "Yes!"  
DMcC: "Then maybe you should try to talk to Sunny before the concert."  
DS: "Oh."  
DMcC: "You should talk to her anyway, Dawn. I mean, you two should be friends again. You've been friends for such a long time. And if Sunny ever needed you, it's right now."  
DS: "Ha."  
DMcC: "No, really."  
DS: "Ducky, I love you. You know that. So pardon me when I say that you're such a GUY. That is such a guy thing to say."  
DMcC: "…"  
DS: "Ducky?"  
DMcC: "Yeah, I'm here."  
DS: "What's the matter?"  
DMcC: "Nothing."

EVERYTHING.

You are NOT a guy. Not like that anyway. You are never too busy or awkward to listen – REALLY listen – to a girl's problems. You love the ones you're friends with like sisters, and you always have time for them. In fact, you prefer hanging out with them to being with other guys. You're more like them than your guy friends anyway. You don't make crude jokes. You don't like sports. You don't womanize. You don't go through girlfriends like they're going out of style. To be honest, you're not interested in having a girlfriend at all.

You told Dawn you had to go. And now you're just sitting here.

**Cal v. Jax  
Two Three-Letter Names  
One Big Problem**

What if you see Cal at the concert? You know he's going to be there. He has his ticket, and he's a HUGE fan.

Maybe you should give your ticket to Maggie. She's probably really mad at you for not inviting her in the first place. The reason you chose Dawn, Sunny and Amalia was that you're closer to them than you are to Maggie, but excluding her from the group is hardly going to help your friendship with her, and you're not exactly eager to see Cal again.

WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO STOP ALIENATING PEOPLE?

**Monday  
After School**

You drop by Sunny's house today. You didn't see her in school (that's not unusual) and you want to see how she's doing. Turned out she isn't home, but Dawn is. You sit in the sun on the back steps of her porch and ask whether she thinks Maggie is mad about the tickets. It turns out that Maggie doesn't even know what Jax IS.

HOW CAN SHE NOT KNOW THE WONDER THAT IS PIERRE X?

But even if she doesn't care about the band, it must still hurt to be left out. You say as much.

Dawn's response?

"Ducky, you worry too much."

You can tell she is trying to figure out what's bothering you. Finally she asks if you're thinking about Alex.

You are truthful. Well. You lie by omission. You tell her you think about him every day, which is true. You say you wish you'd been a better friend, which is also true. Maybe if you were, Alex wouldn't have tried to kill himself.

You do not mention Cal.

She tells you not to give yourself too much credit.

You're not sure whether to feel insulted or comforted.

**Tuesday  
Late**

You should call Cal.

Better late than never, right?

You hope he'll feel the same.

**Wednesday  
Homeroom**

You will call him tonight. You swear.

**Lunchtime**

Sunny just came up and asked you to drive her home after school. She said she just didn't feel like walking, but you suspect she wants the company. You're happy to oblige.

**Sunny's House  
6:42**

Mr Winslow is STILL at the bookstore. You're staying for dinner. Sunny's mother is in the hospital again, and you don't want Sunny to eat alone.

**Home  
8:29**

Sunny's dad finally got home about twenty minutes ago. He thanked you for keeping her company. You thanked Sunny for making dinner. You left.

And now you're home and you're procrastinating.

**11:59**

It's too late to call now. You'll do it tomorrow.

**Thursday  
Lunchtime**

It has been raining ALL DAY today, and it's doing nothing for your nerves. Tonight is the night. You've decided. You will call Cal, for sure. There are EIGHT DAYS until the concert. Eight. It's been less than a week since you met him. You're a wreck. You need to talk to him – at least APOLOGIZE to him – for the sake of your own sanity, if nothing else.

You're so worked up that you can't even eat. You split a juice with Dawn earlier. Talked about Sunny's mom. Basically told her to go easy on her (ex) best friend.

You feel like such a fake, preaching the gospel of kindness when you were so terribly callous to someone who did NOTHING to you whatsoever. At least Sunny and Dawn's fight kind of has a point.

You should call him now.

**7th Period  
You Should Be In English  
Instead You're Hiding in the Boys' Bathroom**

You called him.

He's not mad anymore.

He

You're shaking too much to write, so you're going to go splash some cold water on your face.

BRB.

Okay.

You walked out of Vista after you wrote that last entry. Sophomores are allowed to do that during lunch, to eat at the strip mall a couple of blocks away. There's a payphone at the strip mall.

You reach the payphone and freak out for a moment because your bracelet with his number on it is at home, but then you remember that you wrote it down IN YOUR JOURNAL, which of course you have with you.

You dial the number with a trembling hand and then put in some loose change.

When he picks up, you swear your heart stops.

"Hello?"

You can't speak at first.

"Hel-LO?"

He sounds angry now, and you're yet to say a word. Off to a flying start, McCrae.

"Is… is this Cal?"

"Yeah, who's this?"

"It's, um, Ducky."

"OH." Now he sounds surprised. "HI."

"Hi." Well, at least he's not yelling at you. "Listen, Cal, I'm really sorry. About… I'm sorry I lied. I did like you. I mean, I do."

He's quiet for a minute, and you can't say you blame him. "So what happened?" he asks finally.

"I'm not sure," you reply honestly, and you think he believes you. He waits for you to go on. "It… it freaked me out, how you just KNEW that I was gay, and I didn't even… I didn't even know that. I'm STILL not sure I know that."

He makes a little murmuring sound that's half sympathetic, half rueful. The phone clicks. You dig for quarters and find a dime.

"Cal, I'm calling from a payphone near my high school, my lunch period is almost over and the only change I can find is this dime that has a piece of gum stuck to it so I'm not sure if the phone will even ACCEPT it and I really have to go, but it's not because I don't want to talk to you, okay? I want you to know that."

You think you hear laughter in his voice. "It's okay, Ducky. Call again when you can. I'd like to –"

And then the phone cuts out.

You want to leave school RIGHT NOW so you can go home and call him.

But you really ought to go to English.

**8th Period**

In FIVE MINUTES you are OUT OF HERE.

**9:55**

You got home from school, parked your car in the middle of the driveway (Ted yelled at you for that when he came in later) and called Cal.

You have JUST PUT THE PHONE DOWN.

He is an INCREDIBLY nice guy.

You can NOT stop smiling.

Or using capital letters.

So. You get inside the house and literally run for the phone. As you dial Cal's number, you feel almost as nervous as you did earlier, which is strange because this time you know he's not mad at you.

He picks up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Cal?"

"Ducky!" He greets you so warmly. You weren't expecting that. "So, did you find some more change?"

You laugh. "No, but I'm at home now, so it doesn't matter."

"Does this mean I have your home number on my Caller ID?"

"Yup."

"Cool. So now we have each other's numbers."

"Um, yeah, I guess we do."

You start feeling a little queasy at this point. You do like him, but you're not ready to DATE him.

"Are you okay? You went quiet."

He is a very cool guy. He picks up on other people's feelings almost immediately. He reminds you of… well, you.

"Yeah, I'm…" You're about to lie as usual and tell him you're fine, but something makes you stop. "Actually, I'm not sure. I like you, Cal, I do, but… I might just like you as a friend. I don't know. I don't want to hurt your feelings again, and I'm so sorry that I did in the first place –"

"It's okay," he interjects, which gives you the courage to continue.

"And I feel stupid and childish even asking you to play this ridiculous guessing game with me because I REALLY DON'T KNOW, and part of me doesn't WANT to know, and you're in COLLEGE. You don't deserve this."

"Don't tell me what I deserve," he says quietly. He doesn't sound angry, just sure of himself. "I like you. You make me laugh. I feel comfortable around you. What's not to deserve?"

He's being so nice that you actually flop down on the couch and close your eyes for a minute so you can soak up all the sweetness.

"But I don't know what I am," you say finally.

"I didn't either, at one point."

"How did you find out?"

Your voice cracks on the last syllable and you hate yourself for it.

"I'll give you the Reader's Digest version. There was a boy at school, a locker room, and we were the last two in it."

You can't imagine something like that happening at Vista. You barely even LOOK at the other boys in P.E. class, let alone…

"Wait, what did you DO exactly?"

"Just kissed. When it eventually happened, it felt like such a weight off both of our shoulders. We'd liked each other for a long time."

"Weren't you scared of somebody seeing you?"

He pauses to think for a second. "Honestly, no. Looking back on it, I knew it was reckless, but I really only had eyes for him. I didn't have room in my head to think about anything else. He was the first boy I ever had feelings for, and to kiss him was incredible. I didn't WANT to be gay, but when I finally knew for sure, it gave me such a sense of peace."

You feel a dull pain in your chest and wonder briefly whether you're having a heart attack from the stress of it all before you realize you're identifying SO MUCH with what Cal is saying that it actually physically HURTS.

"I don't understand how knowing something like that about yourself can be peaceful," you admit.

"Well, it's like this: before you figure it out, you're walking around with this big dark cloud of turmoil above your head. You spend a lot of time psychoanalyzing and worrying and hoping and denying. But after you realize what you are for sure, all of that angst and negative energy is eliminated from your life. You can actually focus on living again."

This makes a lot of sense to you. You try to imagine how different your life would be if you didn't have the worry that's always been there, the niggling doubt about where you fit in. You can't do it. It's ingrained into you.

"I want to know," you whisper.

"Then I want to help you find out."

After the heavy stuff, you move on to lighter subjects. TV shows, movies, extracurriculars in high school and college ("There's an amazing GSA at my school, Ducky, oh my gosh, I wish you could BE here") and, finally, music.

"You realize the show is in eight days," Cal reminds you. You know this, but somehow it seems a lot more exciting without the worries about Cal lingering in your thoughts.

"I can't wait," you gush, and Cal MOANS down the phone (that's literally the only way you can describe it).

"Pierre is SO BEAUTIFUL."

"Mmm," you concur, not even realizing what your agreement implies until after you've said it.

"His eyes…" Cal says dreamily.

"His accent," you continue.

"His voice."

"His smile."

"His hair."

"His HIP BONES."

Cal makes an odd keening sound and you wonder if you've killed him.

"Guh… The hip bones, Ducky. What I wouldn't give for one night alone with that man!"

You're silent.

"Ducky?"

"Hhhuh."

You sound like you've swallowed chalk.

"Sorry," he says, instantly contrite.

"It's okay."

How many times have you heard Sunny say something like that about a guy she likes? It should be no different with Cal.

But somehow it is.

He asks if you want to meet up at the concert. You're about to say yes when you remember that the girls will be with you and they're your responsibility. Dawn's father in particular will flip out on you if you don't return his daughter to him safely. You explain this to Cal, wondering if he'll think you're just making up another excuse, but he's great about it.

"That's okay, I'm sure I'll see you there anyway. Maybe we can dance together or something. Or just stand side-by-side and stare at Pierre." (You laugh.) "We have each other's numbers now, so it won't be the end of the world if we don't hang out next Friday. You can call me over the weekend if you want."

You tell him you will. You want to say "It's a date," but that feels a little too forward.

You're kind of scared about how this friendship will develop, but a part of you is also really, really excited.

**Friday  
ONE WEEK TO GO!**

You just called Dawn. The conversation went something like this:

DS: "Hello?"  
DMcC: "Can you believe that in a mere week we will be ON OUR WAY to see Pierre?"  
DS, cracking up: "I know, Ducky, I can't believe it. I'm so excited! I need to plan my outfit."  
DMcC, stricken: "YOU HAVEN'T PLANNED YOUR OUTFIT YET? Girl, I started planning mine the SECOND I bought those tickets."  
DS: "Wow, you're ahead of the game. I'd better go do that! Actually, I have somebody I need to call before it gets too late, so I should go anyway."

You wonder if she's going to call Sunny. You hope so.

**Thursday the 4th  
THE DAY BEFORE THE CONCERT!**

You haven't written for almost a whole week. Shame on you, Ducky, neglecting your journaling duties for a boy.

But oh, what a boy.

You've spoken to Cal every day since you last wrote. Every conversation you have with him makes him seem even smarter and funnier than before. You haven't laughed this much in ages. And have you EVER been this happy?

Amalia has noticed the change in your behavior. In her words, "you're usually 'up,' but lately you've been REALLY up." You make up some kind of story about doing really well on a math test (as if!) and then change the subject. It worries you a little bit, though. It's not that you think your friends will no longer accept you, but the thought of "coming out" to them fills you with fear.

"Coming out."

Coming out.

Did you really just write that?

**10:17**

Cal says not to worry about it. His exact words are, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Then he asks what you're wearing to the concert. You'll match!

**CONCERT DAY  
AKA The Day Ducky Woke Up With His Heart Vibrating in His Chest**

You are ridiculously keyed up today. Sunny said hello to you THREE TIMES in the hallway before you acknowledged her. She's excited too, so it was okay.

You cannot WAIT for this evening.

**8:34**

You are just about to leave for Sunny and Dawn's houses (they're neighbors), and then you're going to Amalia's. You're wearing your green jeans and the shirt with the picture of Elvis on it. You gelled your hair. You clipped your nails. You are READY.

**Early Saturday Morning  
The ****AMAZING Aftermath**

You have an incredible story to tell.

You don't even know where to start. You have literally been sitting here for the past twenty minutes staring at a blank page and wondering how to begin.

You suppose you should begin at the beginning.

You pull up to the curb between Dawn and Sunny's house a little after nine, and Sunny comes flying out to meet you.

"HI!" she squeals, practically bouncing into the passenger seat.

You kiss her on the cheek and then excuse yourself for your talk with Mr. Schafer, which goes swimmingly, so you return with Dawn in tow.

Sunny smirks at her. "Did your dad have a nice talk with Ducky?"

Ouch. Before Dawn has a chance to reply, you lean into the car and turn on your tape deck (it's working this week!)

"Careful, Ducky," Sunny warns. "Dawn's father might hear that and make you stay home."

Desperate times call for desperate measures. You reach under your seat and produce a baseball cap, which you place on your head with the bill pointing out to the left side before affecting your best British accent and telling Sunny, "Mr. Schafer has no power here, so becalm your fears."

Dawn laughs. "Becalm? Is that a word?"

You shrug. "On my planet it is."

Then you drive over to Amalia's house to pick her up, and she is even more excited than Dawn and Sunny. Before you know it, you're on the freeway with some of your best friends in the world, heading to North Palo… and Pierre X!

All your doubts from earlier in the week have evaporated. You're SURE they won't care about Cal, or how you feel about Cal, or what liking Cal might make you. They are such good people – and SUCH good friends.

"Now, this is nice," you can't help but say. "Just me and my girls."

Sunny shoots you a gorgeous, genuine smile, and right then you feel like you can trust her with anything.

Once you get to the venue, the nerves kick in. You're convinced you've seen Cal on five separate occasions before you even get into the hallway. When everyone's in, you help Dawn find a pay phone so she can call her father and tell him she arrived safely, and then you find your way back to Sunny and Amalia.

"Did your daddy say you could stay a little while longer?" Sunny asked Dawn sweetly. "Or did he decide he'd better come and get you?"

"Oh, Sunny," Dawn replied. "I'm so sorry."

"About what?"

"About your father. That he's so wrapped up in your mother, he doesn't care what you do."

You and Amalia just stare at them. You're used to the acidic comments from Sunny, but from Dawn they're something new.

There is a set of open double doors just ahead of you, and you peer into the space beyond them. It's dark and smoky, and completely jam-packed with tables and chairs except at the very far end, where the stage is. In front of the stage is a small dance floor. You feel a chill run up your spine. Maybe you'll dance there with Cal tonight!

The four of you are led to a long, narrow table which seats twelve people. You and Sunny sit next to each other at one end, and Amalia and Dawn sit opposite. You glance around for Cal, but he's nowhere to be seen.

Not long after that, the show starts. The opening act is decent, if a little screechy. You think they employ the use of a tambourine very effectively. They play for about 45 minutes, and then go offstage. Jax's gear is set up pretty quickly, and you are getting knots in your stomach from the anticipation of seeing Pierre and dancing with Cal. You're not sure which you should be more nervous about. You hope Cal shows up. You hope PIERRE shows up.

From somewhere behind you an announcer says, "Ladies and gentlemen, JAX!" and the room bursts into applause and whoops before growing quiet as the five members of Jax walk out onto the stage. Pierre, the singer and frontman, comes out last, and you feel your heart flutter inside your chest as you first lay eyes on him. He looks out into the audience and his gaze lands DIRECTLY ON YOU. And then he SMILES.

You feel as if you are floating.

Then he glances at the other band members, nods, and the first song erupts from their instruments. It's wild and loud. People are getting onto their feet, whistling, cheering. The second is a ballad, a story of two people who fall in love and run away to London to spend the rest of their lives together. There's more to it than that – something about another woman – but you focus on the happy parts. You notice that by the end of the song, Dawn is in tears. You think you are too, but you're too in awe of Jax to notice.

By the third song, the dance floor starts to fill up. You strain your eyes looking for Cal in the smoky atmosphere, but you don't see him. People are dancing in groups of three or four, in pairs, and even alone. Girls are dancing with girls, guys are dancing with guys, girls and guys are dancing together, people are drifting around and dancing with people they don't know. You can just about make out one guy standing at the edge of the dance floor. He stands there for the entire first half of the set before you realize who he is and what he's doing there. He's waiting.

You glance across the table. "Want to dance, Dawn?"

"Sure," she agrees, grabbing your hand.

You suppose you make quite an attractive couple, because once you start dancing, people turn to look at you both. You really let loose on the dance floor, stepping and spinning and shimmying, and when you look over at Cal, you find that he's smiling at you. You beckon him to join you and he does, all liquid grace and perfect rhythm. Another girl comes over and dances in your group as well. The rest of the world fades out at this point – even Pierre cannot compare. You vaguely recall Dawn getting your attention and motioning to the table but you let her go, and soon afterwards the other girl drifts away too.

Cal grabs your hand and pulls you close, spinning you around so you have your back to him. You lean against him and lose yourself in the hypnotic tempo. At one point he puts his hands on your hip bones, leaning over your shoulder to shout in your ear, "Is this okay?" You nod firmly, not sure that he'd hear you even if you did yell out your affirmation. He moves his hips against yours, thrusting against you to the beat of the music, and you dimly register that this must be grinding, what he's doing, and it always sounded creepy when the Cro Mags talked about it but this - this feels AMAZING.

You stay on the dance floor for a while, jumping up and down and grinding and generally rocking out, until Pierre does another ballad. You look at Cal. He smiles reassuringly and pulls you close. He's taller than you, so you sort of lean into him and collapse against his chest, closing your eyes. He feels so SAFE. He rests one hand at the nape of your neck and the other on your hip, guiding you slowly around the dance floor. You don't remember how the song goes, or even any of the lyrics, but you know it was perfect.

Halfway through, he takes your hand and starts tugging at you. You open your eyes. He looks like a little kid, so flushed and earnest, so you give up resisting and follow him off the dance floor. He leads you deftly through the maze of tables to the edge of the room and then disappears through a dark doorway that you wouldn't even have noticed. You follow him down a short corridor before he pushes open a door and you step into… the guys' bathroom.

You are a tad confused.

"I wanted to do this out there," he explains, panting slightly from exertion and wrapping his arm around your waist again, "but I didn't know whether you wanted your first to be so public."

You stare nervously at him. What is he going to –

Before you can finish the thought, he tilts your chin up with his free hand and kisses you on the lips. You're not expecting it so you breathe in sharply and almost cough, but he takes it in his stride. His lips are warm and soft and pliable, and his kisses intense. You never want it to end. When Pierre announces their final song, you cling to Cal as if you're drowning, and he kisses you deeply.

It feels so right that it's scary.

All too soon it's over, and there is a stream of people coming into the bathroom, breaking up your lovely moment. Cal grins at you and grabs your hand again, leading you forward against the rush. You can't resist grabbing one more quick kiss before emerging. It's pandemonium outside – there are concertgoers looking for their friends, their girlfriends and boyfriends, their rides (you feel a twinge of guilt for disappearing on Dawn and Sunny and Amalia), calling out names and squealing and hugging each other everywhere you look.

This has been, without question, the best night of your life. You saw a great band with your wonderful friends, you had a gorgeous dance partner and, happiest of all, YOU'RE NOT CONFUSED ABOUT WHO YOU ARE ANYMORE.

Cal chooses this moment to lean into you and ask as quietly as he can without being drowned out, "Will I see you again?" which quite absurdly makes you feel like Cinderella or someone, and of course you answer yes. He rewards you with a dazzling smile, squeezes your hand and then relinquishes it before disappearing off into the crowd leaving you, dazed, to find your friends and take them home to a place where nothing will ever be the same again – but you're really okay with that.


End file.
